Sweet Dreams
by lilithaofsherwood
Summary: Blaine makes a decision, has an odd dream or two, and finally discovers something wonderful.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** explicit slash, weirdness, language, little bit of angst, _**spoilers**_ for season 2 of Glee

**AN **This is my first (complete) fanfic, and my first attempt at writing smut, so posting it on here is kind of a big deal for me. Also, it's unbetaed, but I'd love one if anyone is interested.

This story, in case you're confused, is set sometime in season two, but before Silly Love Songs (ep 12), because I started it a while ago. I guess it's a little AU. ;) It's going to be a four or five chapter thing, I think, but the chapters will be relatively short. The entire story is from Blaine's point of view.

As an aside, I just got a account yesterday, but I've been ravenously reading stories on here for a few months, and it's been a great experience. It's good to know there are other people at least as obsessive about their fandoms as me! I have enormous respect and appreciation for all the talented and creative writers on here. Thank you!

**Disclaimer: **To my great sorrow, I do not own, in any way shape or form, Glee, its plot or its characters, and I'm not making any money off of this.

Sorry for the long-windedness. It's a habit of mine. Enjoy and pretty pleeaaaaaaaaaaaaase with pickles on top review!

**Chapter One:**

**AN **The first chapter is pretty much all Blaine's thoughts, but I promise there's a purpose to it and plenty of dialogue, as well as other stuff ;) later on.

I pushed Kurt backwards onto the bed, kissing him gently, but with a fierce longing behind my eyes.

I was so damn tired of acting like I didn't care, like I harbored no secret desire, no feelings of lust. Like my feelings were only platonic, those of a polite, helpful friend and mentor. I'm a teenage boy, for Christ's sake. I have a dick, and it had been making its presence known far too often of late. Ever since Kurt had transferred to Dalton, the number of cold showers I found myself taking had increased exponentially. But it was far more than that, too. The original plan had been to give Kurt time, to let him find his own way and not rush him into anything when he had already gone through so much in the last few weeks. I'd be the perfect supportive, totally un-pushy friend. Instead, I seemed to be alternately flirting outrageously and alienating Kurt. Gone was the steady support and sage advice I had effortlessly dispensed back when we first started hanging out and he was still at McKinley. Now, Kurt was around all the time, but we saw much less of each other, it seemed. I could tell I was hurting my friend, but I just couldn't seem to stop. I was feeling so conflicted. Wasn't I supposed to be out, and proud? Of course I was. And so was Kurt. And there was definitely something between us, a deep connection, a spark. For me, actually, it was more of a raging inferno. Why should this be so difficult? I was fucking _sick of it._ He didn't deserve this-the kid had been through plenty recently without his closest friend at his new school getting all weird and standoffish on him. But I wasn't positive _how _I felt, or if I could be what he wanted, much less what he needed. Even though my at this point extremely irritated with me friends kept assuring me he was totally into me. I thought so sometimes-I mean, he acted pretty flirty-but then I wasn't sure.

He was so inexperienced, so brave. Simultaneously delicate and tough. Transparent and seemingly completely honest with me, and yet an enigma. Soooooo sooooo ridiculously, unfairly, infuriatingly hot. I was scared of hurting him, I was nervous he wouldn't want me the way I wanted him, but more than that, I think I was just afraid to open up. It had been so long since I'd had a real relationship, and the last one hadn't gone so well. Even if it had, the fact would remain that I'd never felt this depth of . . . something for anyone before. I refused to call it "love", even in the inner recesses of my mind, because that was just too fucking terrifying. I was Blaine, the head singer for the Warblers, the straight (in the academic sense only ) A student, the loyal friend, clever, intelligent, amusing, attractive, but always cool, together, collected. Secure in his sexuality, in his academic success, in his talent, his social life, his family money, his position in the world, future, everything. I was able to open up around David and Wes a little sometimes, sure, but they were my best friends, practically my brothers. They alone could know I'm just as messed up and insecure as anyone. In general, I used my happy-sexy-and-successful persona as a shield between me and any bad things I encountered in the world. It was a shield made of real things, sure. I really was content in my life, for the most part. I didn't go around faking every aspect of my personality 24/7, or anything horrible and depressing like that. But vulnerability was NOT my thing.

So Kurt was a new experience. His hardships brought back a flood of memories, for one thing. Memories from a few years ago, before I'd transferred to Dalton, when things got really bad at my old school. I didn't tell Kurt any details of this, because I didn't want to burden him right then, but seeing his pain was causing me to relive things I thought I had gotten past completely. Yeah right. Apparently not. More than that, however, I was no longer sure how to act around him. My whole put-on (partially, at least) mentor thing didn't appear to be working out. It's hard to be mentor-ish when all you can think of doing is throwing your "student" onto the nearest soft surface and making wild love with him until he screams your name in adoring ecstasy. (Umm, yes, I had it bad.) I wanted to act perfect around him, but instead I was acting like a jerk. So I figured that at some point I had to open up, or things were just going to go downhill from there. And David and Wes would probably end up buying several rolls of duck tape and some of those heavy duty ear plugs construction workers sometimes wear to protect their ears, just to avoid hearing me moan about the situation one _more_ time.

There for, I was on my bed, making out with Kurt. Except here's the thing-there's one little detail I neglected to mention previously, when I described us kissing at the beginning of my little narration. I was doing this only within the confines of my head. Yes, the big moment with Kurt wasn't really happening. But just the fact that I was fantasizing was a big deal for me. Weird, I know. Let me explain. I have this complex about not fantasizing about someone I care about if nothing of the sort is happening in real life. I had had images of me and Kurt engaged in . . . certain activities pop into my head before certainly, but they were unbidden. Well, mostly. I wanted to be a mental gentleman, and to minimize awkwardness with Kurt. I already had this little issue where I became insanely turned on whenever we were too close, so I figured that actively picturing what I'd like to do with Kurt would _not_ improve matters. Plus it just seemed kinda rude. We were friends, nothing more. I guess. Do friends flirt that much? "I think not!" said David when I asked him, and then he had the nerve to snicker at me. So much for brotherly solidarity.

Hence, I made the decision, one night in my room, when I (as usual) couldn't get Kurt out of my head. It required a long and careful deliberation of about three and a quarter seconds. I would allow myself to consciously picture our first time, imagine what his reaction to my confession of feeling . . . well, something would be, fantasize about what he'd feel like. It was like admitting to my self that I really did want a relationship, that I was going to do something to try to make that happen. I wanted to kiss him so bad, it was like my lips were on fire. And the urge to kiss is not exactly something you can attempt to alleviate on your own, the way you can certain other urges. I mean, I suppose there's always a pillow or the mirror or whatever, but that's not very satisfying. Not at all satisfying, in fact. I know. I tried it in middle school. So I just lay on my bed, getting increasingly turned on by the minute, fantasizing about me and Kurt.

He would be just a little surprised, but thrilled. He'd feel the same way, the exact same something I did. I'd kiss him, not at all jittery or afraid. It would be perfect. He'd kiss back, slow at first, but then the kiss would grow and build into something deep and passionate and oh-so-very-sexy. We'd have sex, hot steamy beautiful sappy wild sex, and it would be wonderful. I imagined it all in lurid detail, and eventually my hand gravitated toward my pants, unzipping my fly and slipping inside my underwear to take care of some of those "other urges" I mentioned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

**AN** I apologize in advance for this chapter. I don't want to give anything away, but it just sort of popped into my head and I had to write it down. Or type it up, whatever. I assure you, writing one particular scene (you'll know the one when you get to it) was extremely uncomfortable for me. Don't worry, though-there's a very happy ending.

That night, I had a dream. It was so vivid it was like a vision. I would say it felt like real life, if it hadn't been so _weird. _Me and Kurt were sitting in the cafeteria back at McKinley High, at a table littered with used condoms. _Eeeww_, I thought, but it wasn't because of the condoms. I had no problem with those, especially since they smelled strongly of something essentially _Kurt._ They smelled rather wonderful, in fact. The _eeeww_ was because we weren't the only ones sitting there. Perched on a chair opposite Kurt was Santana, the gorgeous (if you liked that sort of thing) Latina cheerleader who had tried to flirt with me once. She was paying me absolutely no heed now, though. She was making unmistakable sex eyes at Kurt, who was looking back with a horrifyingly intrigued expression. Standing behind Kurt was her pretty blonde friend, Britney. The one who Kurt had made out with last year. The thought sent a little shutter of jealousy through me.

As I watched, Santana moved forward until her knees were touching Kurt's, and then she stuck her tongue into his mouth. He promptly responded by opening wide and wrapping his arms around her neck, pulling her even closer. She shoved her tongue down his throat and reached down to grab his cock, which was actually hard. My shock intensified when Britney started to suck his neck and mutter things about how hot and sexy he was, to which he responded by breaking apart from the dark haired cheerleader to kiss the blonde one. To _attack _her lips in fact. _What? _I thought blankly. _What the hell? Kurt told me he hated making out with Britney. He tried it last year to act straight for his dad, and he hated it. Felt absolutely nothing. He _told _me that himself! _ And then he grabbed at Santana's ample bust area, while still sucking face with Britney, and that was it. I could take no more.

"You're gay!" I screamed in indignation. "_GAY! _Do you know what that means?" Three pairs of perfectly groomed eyebrows rose slightly at the interruption, but none of them paused in their exertions, which were becoming increasingly heated and strenuous by the second. "It means you don't like females! You don't like to do what you're doing right now! You like GUYS, Kurt! MALES. Males such as myself, for example! Remember me! I'm right here. It should be me! You wouldn't do this! This is ridiculous. I must be dreaming. Stop it!" I bellowed. Finally, Kurt drew apart from the girl's lips and looked at me, pity evident in his beautiful, kaleidoscope eyes. He appeared a little surprised, whether at my outburst or the fact that I was sitting there at all I wasn't sure.

"Don't be silly, Blake", he said kindly. "Of course I'm not gay. What a ridiculous thing to say. Why, I've had sex with nearly every girl in this school. I'm the most popular guy at McKinley. I've made love to females hundreds of times. You know that. How did you think all of those got there?" He gestured to the heavenly smelling detritus on the cafeteria table. "But, but. I mean-but…no. This is all wrong. This can't be right. You go to Dalton. You're my best friend. You flirt with me, you know you do. What about me, Kurt? I love you. I _love you!_" I was close to tears by now, but the love of my life just smiled faintly, glancing towards the two girls as if he was wishing he could resume his previous activities instead of having this tedious conversation with me, but was too polite to do so.

"It's true" he replied. "A long time ago I did flirt with you, but that was before I realized that really, girls are so much better, Bob. I don't like you at all. You didn't even try to kiss me once when I flirted with you. And you say you're in love with me? Gross, Bill, really gross. You should be straight too. Being gay is disgusting. Being straight is awesome. See all those, there on the table? That's proof of just how awesome girls are. While you, Billy, you never once made me cum, and then you have the audacity to say you're in love with me? Truly unbelievable." With that, he turned around and grabbed Britney's boobs in both hands and her mouth in a fierce kiss while Santana dropped to her knees to give him a blowjob. Clearly, I had been forgotten.

It was then that I realized that Kurt was naked. In that weird, dreamlike way I realized that all three of them must have been naked the whole time, in fact. I watched, gaping in horror, but also hopelessly turned on by the sight of Kurt, thrusting forward into the cheerio's mouth. I wished, desperately, that it was my mouth instead. "Kurt" I called loudly, trying one more time to convince him that this couldn't really be happening. He lifted his head to glance in my direction, not really looking at me. "Give it up, Ben. You're too late. And by the way, I hate show tunes, glee clubs, and you."

Then, blessedly, I woke up.

I lay in bed for a little while, gasping like a fish out of water. Strangely, I didn't feel relieved. Yes, it had been a dream, but it had felt so incredibly _real. _Like a message from the universe or something, telling me I'd better act fast or I'd lose Kurt. If not to the highly improbable scenario I'd just witnessed in my nightmare, then to some other guy. There were plenty of gay guys at Dalton who'd surely love into Kurt's pants, maybe even into his heart. And was the scene in my terrible dream really so impossible? I knew Kurt wouldn't end up having sex with every girl at his old high school, but he could end up with a girl. Sure, Kurt seemed about as gay as it gets, but sexuality is a flexible thing. In retrospect, I was being imbecilic to think that would happen, but at the time, the horror of the dream had me in its clutches. It seemed like an omen. He'd been so coldly reasonable, so confident in telling me he hated me. I felt gripped by a sort of painful terror, as if I'd just discovered that someone I loved had died. I had to do something to shake this feeling. I couldn't act like I was fine and continue with my life as usual. I couldn't.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

**AN **This one is short, sort of a prelude to what's gonna happen in the next two. But never fear, chapters four and five will be longer and _much _hotter.

It was in a in a state of questionable sanity that I, Blaine Anderson, stumbled into the bedroom of Kurt Hummel at 3:33 AM on a Thursday morning. He had left his door unlocked, which I thought was rather unwise. Dalton might be considered a fine school, full of wealthy students from respectable families, but that didn't mean no one would try to rob you or prank you in the middle of the night. Or that no one would do what I was doing-barging into his room without knocking, dressed only in the boxers I had slept in and with eyes red from the tears I was holding in, throwing myself onto his bed, and saying "Kurt, Kurt! Kurt, wake up!"

"Huh? I left the rubber ducky in the tub, right where it belongs. I'll put the soap away later, Finn, quit bugging me", he muttered. Obviously, my crush's dreams were of a less sexual nature than my own.

"Kurt", I whispered. "It's me, Kurt, not Finn".

He opened his eyelids a crack, looking adorably sleepy, and said softly, "Blaine? What in the name of the good Gaga are you doing here at this time of night? It can't be more than four in the morning." A jolt of joy went through me. He remembered my name!

"Of course I remember you're name, Blaine. You're my best friend. Why wouldn't I? Are you OK?" I blushed furiously when I realized I'd voiced my thoughts aloud.

"Umm, no reason" I tried, lamely.

"Uh huh. And is this 'no reason' why you're in my room at" he glanced at the clock on the night stand by his bed "3:37 AM, on my bed, practically crying? What happened, Blaine?" His original irritation at being woken seemed to have dissolved, to be replaced by a concern I found so sweet that I felt like crying even more than before.

"I, umm, I sort of had a bad dream. Terrifying, really", I said quietly. I'd had this overwhelming urge to be with Kurt, but now that I was here, I wasn't sure what I was going to say, much less _do. _

"Tell me about it," he said, sitting up without so much as a sigh of regret for the loss of sleep. Who could ask for a better friend?

If two things about the situation had been different, then my whole life from that point on might have turned out differently as well. But, thank God or Goddess or the universe or Lady Gaga or whoever, they weren't. First, if Kurt had said something more along the lines of: 'do you want to tell me about it?' or 'would talking about it help?', or even 'tell me about it?' I would have avoided talking about the dream at all costs. Probably would have muttered 'no, no, I'm fine, shouldn't have bothered you, I'll go back to my room, see you in the morning' and hightailed it out of there, went to lie on my bed in abject misery until the sun rose and I could go back to life as usual, resigned to the knowledge that I would never have Kurt as more than a friend. But there was no question implied in his tone. He said it gently but quite firmly: "tell me about it". I _had _woken him at three in the morning; the least I could do was comply.

And second: Kurt was naked.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

**AN **At last, we get to the beginning of the good stuff. Yippee! (wow, am I mature or what? )

When Kurt sat up, I had been far too distracted with thinking how to explain my dream without utterly embarrassing myself and destroying our friendship forever to notice that Kurt, too, had deigned to go to sleep shirtless. This was probably for the best, because if I had, I wouldn't have moved to sit right next to him, very close to avoid falling off the bed. Dalton beds are large, but Kurt had a long body pillow and several fluffy throw pillows piled up beside him, and the space left over was narrow to say the least.

He wrapped an arm loosely around my bare shoulders, and I felt him shiver.

"Cold?"

"Uh, yeah, a little. So, what was the dream? I don't think I've ever seen you looking this upset."

"Well, you… see…it's kind of hard to explain", I began tentatively. I put my own arm around his waist to warm him up, grateful for the excuse to touch him but worried it would make talking about the nightmare ten times more difficult. But he wasn't wearing a shirt, and when I touched his skin, I lost my train of though completely. "Umm, Kurt, why aren't you wearing a shirt?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"You could, but there wouldn't be much point in that, would there, since I asked first?"

He shot a not entirely pleased look at me, and I smiled a little and said "OK, OK, fine. I almost always sleep shirtless. It's just more comfortable to me. But I was sure you normally wore several layers on top to bed."

"I do. It's just, I was so tired last night I fell asleep before I could put them on. I usually wear like three flannel shirts in the winter."

I found myself grinning teasingly. Yet another of his endearing habits. "So you must be freezing, then," I said without really thinking about it.

"Yeah," he agreed softly. "You mind if I snuggle up a little, while you tell me about your dream? For warmth, you know?"

I almost told him he should go get a shirt before he became a living icicle, but thankfully stopped myself just in time. _You idiot, _I thought furiously to myself. _Kurt is actually asking if it's OK to press his bare chest against _your _bare chest, and you're gonna tell him no? _"Of course," I said hastily, afraid the pause had been too long and he'd think I found the idea of being close to him unappealing. "I mean, of course not!"

"Thanks," he said, even softer than before, and wrapped both arms securely around me, resting his chest along my side and his chin on the skin of my shoulder. I could barely breathe. I sucked in a deep, deep breath, hoping to control my sudden trembling, and hugged him close. He was practically on top of me, and I couldn't quite recall what we'd been talking about or why I was here, but boy was I happy to be.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, and I remembered. Stalling for time in hopes of prolonging this moment, which was definitely the best in my life so far, I said "Hey, you mind if I climb under the covers? It is pretty cold, you know."

He was silent for a long moment that felt like an eternity, his face very still, as if making a monumental decision. Finally, he murmured, "Of course you can, Blaine." And I climbed under the covers. And everything changed irrevocably.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN **I'm really very sorry about the ridiculously long time it took me to update, but I can't honestly say it won't happen again. In my defense, I've been very busy (I know, I know, blah blah blah, every one says that and it's not a very good excuse) and I just spent around two hours on this in the middle of the night when I was supposed to be doing a million other less fun and more useful things (none of which include actually getting some sleep, sadly). Which brings me to my next point. I'm exhausted at the moment, so please make me aware of any errors or discrepancies or just general weirdness's, and I will do my best to fix them.

Also, I'm thinking probably two more chapters after this and then I'm done. And I'm working on a Brittana one shot which will be up soon (I hope!)

With out further ado, I give you the next installment of Sweet Dreams!

**Chapter Five:**

I could hardly believe it-I was cuddled up next to Kurt, _under the covers of his bed_, in the middle of the night. It was pretty much a dream come true. But… "Wait, Kurt. Are you not wearing any pants?"

"Uh, yeah. I mean, no. Not as such. "

Not as such?

"Not as such," I repeated dumbly.

"I kind of forgot to put those on last night as well."

"You…forgot."

"I forgot," he said firmly, as if forgetting one's pajamas (and UNDERWEAR!) and going to bed buck naked was the most normal thing in the world. Which, for some other teenage boy, like me for instance, it probably would be. But Kurt? Meticulous Kurt, with his 30 minute moisturizing routine? Really?

"Next you're gonna tell me you forgot to put on lotion," I muttered.

"I did."

I shot him a puzzled look, which was difficult given that our faces were inches apart.

"I was distracted," he murmured, and my poor brain immediately went places it really shouldn't have gone. As in, what exactly was he doing that got him so distracted?

I gulped and looked up at Kurt's beautiful face less than a foot from mine.

I found myself staring helplessly at his lips, wondering what they would feel like, what they would _taste _like. They looked so ridiculously _pink._ He was so close to me, so close. I turned my head just a little and kissed him tentatively-only the slightest brush of my lips against his miraculously soft ones.

His only response was to let out a little puff of air against my lips.

The next few minutes were not my high point in terms of suavity and romance. In other words, I kind of freaked.

I had screwed up, horribly. I had ruined everything! In a panic, I tried to jump out of the bed, but his long armed embrace held me hostage, and I couldn't go very far. He grinned suddenly, a wide feral grin that set my heart on fire. (Other body parts noticed too.)

"You kissed me," he stated simply.

"I…ah. I…I mean, didn't. Well, didn't mean, not really. Sorry! I mean, I really…well."

"Yes?" he inquired quizzically.

"Yes," I stated, though I wasn't at all sure as to what exactly I was agreeing to.

"Good!" he exclaimed, and leapt toward me. (As much as it is possible to leap when one is wrapped around someone else almost completely while located in a rather narrow space.) Grabbing a handful of curls in one hand (Oh my God I washed out my gel my hair is curly! I realized in embarrassment) he gently tugged me even nearer to him.

"I've wanted that to happen for such a long time," Kurt told me, his eyes intent on my face. On my…on my _lips_. Incredible.

"Really?"

"Really really. Though I'll admit, your reaction wasn't exactly what I'd imagined."

"_My _reaction?"

'"I didn't mean, not really!"'

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. I did mean…well, I wasn't intending to kiss you. It just sort of happened. I um, I couldn't quite stop myself. But that's not to say I didn't mean it. I like you, Kurt. I…I like you a whole lot. But you know, I've never been in a situation quite like this before." I cleared my throat awkwardly, because he was just staring at me, looking right through me with those big beautiful ever-changing eyes. And, like the complete idiot I am when it comes to relationships, I kept right on babbling.

"You're reaction wasn't so great either. You didn't do anything. I know I'm not such a great kisser, but you didn't, you know, do _anything._"

I looked at him as apologetically as I could, trying to convey with my eyes what my mumbling, bumbling mouth couldn't: that I never wanted to do anything to hurt or displease him, that I was afraid he'd hated it. Hated me for jeopardizing our friendship like this.

He seemed to get it, because he smiled at me kindly. (That beautiful radiant smile which instantly awoke the swarm of butterflies that inhabit my stomach of late.)

"You know I'm new at this too, Blaine. I didn't mean to just sit there, believe me. I was just in total shock. Good shock!" he added hastily at my crestfallen expression. "Good shock, I promise. "

"Okay," I said slowly. I was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that our bodies were still pressed close together. "Okay. Well then. I guess we'll just have to do a repeat. "

His grin could light up the dark side of the moon when he's really happy, I swear. It's incredible. Everything about him is so amazingly incredible to me. Anyway, back to my little narrative about the most important day of my life. (Other than the day I was born, obviously, and the day I met Kurt, and the day the Warblers and New Directions tied for Nationals, and the day we graduated college together and the day he proposed - HE proposed! To ME! – and the day we got married and the day we adopted our beautiful daughter, and then the day two years later when we adopted our beautiful son - but I digress. Those are different stories.)

"Let's do that," Kurt said, and leaned in oh so slowly. I think he wanted me to close the distance, but I stubbornly refused. Not because I didn't want to (God how I wanted to) but because I was remembering the Karofsky incident and while I hoped Karofsky was the farthest thing from Kurt's mind right now, I still wanted him to be the one to make the first (well, second) move. Just in case.

So I leaned in too, emboldened by the memory of his sweet voice saying "I've wanted this to happen for such a long time" and by the warm glint I could see in his eyes. I didn't kiss him though. Not on the mouth, not yet. Instead, I brushed my lips over Kurt's soft cheek, the downy hair behind his ears, his jaw, more of his jaw, yet more… I was getting dangerously close to that long, elegant white neck of his. His breathing was coming a little faster and shorter, and he was leaning even farther into me. He seemed lost in his own little world, one marked by the soft rasp of my lips over his skin. I gather my courage and flitted my tongue out to taste his neck. It was delicious.

He let out a small strangled noise and pulled me into a kiss, a real one this time. His mouth was warm and soft and beautiful and wonderful and warm and…demanding? He moved those magnificent lips against mine with a great deal of intent, touching with a firm pressure before sucking on my bottom lip.

We parted for air (totally over-rated stuff, by the way) and grinned widely at each other.

"That," I gasped in a breath, "was more like it".

"Yup," Kurt agreed happily, and latched onto me again.

For someone who supposedly didn't know how to kiss, Kurt was pretty damn good at it.


End file.
